


The IKEA Affair

by DunkinLove



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, IKEA, Ikea-related sexual tension, Multi, Pre-Relationship, furniture assembly, swedish meatballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkinLove/pseuds/DunkinLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya and Gaby go to IKEA. Illya hates it. Napoleon helps assemble furniture with Illya. Illya hates it more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The IKEA Affair

**Author's Note:**

> I know IKEA didn't exist in it's current form in the 60's so assume this is an AU where it did. An IKEA AU.....
> 
> Let's be real; we know Illya would f-ing hate IKEA.

Illya was being tortured.

There was no other way to describe it. No other situation had brought him to his knees in exhaustion and discomfort quite like this one. His days training with the Special Forces seemed like a blissful holiday compared to the hell he now found himself in. He was convinced the ache in his head was going to force his eyes out of their sockets . He was disoriented, fatigued and irritated to the point of violence.

He had no idea the Swedes could be so sadistic...

"Which bath mat do you prefer, the grey or the white?" Gaby asked as she threw the mats over a display for inspection.

"It. Does. Not. Matter," Illya growled through gritted teeth.

"Yes, it does," Gaby replied tartly, "we are going to be living with these things for awhile. I want to make sure we actually like them."

Illya glared down at the small woman as she threw the grey matt onto the already overflowing cart.

"And cheer up. We still have five more sections to go through," Gaby said with a not-so-innocent smile as she pushed the cart along.

Illya's descent into his own personal purgatory had begun when Waverly allocated a budget for the furnishing of the newly acquired flat the agents were to share whilst they resided in London. The agency was too small as of yet to hire professionals to furnish the flat, so it was up to the three agents to buy items as they saw fit; within a budget, of course.

Ever the savvy and practical woman, Gaby had decided to make a trip to a store she had heard of that offered an endless inventory of home goods at low prices."They have everything there," she had claimed, "it'd be stupid to go anywhere else."

Illya wasn't so sure. Napoleon had scoffed and decided to take his third of the budget elsewhere.

Now, two and half hours into Gaby's excursion, Illya was regretting his decision to trust her. Once he had thought Gaby had betrayed him and thrown him to the wolves. Now he knew for certain she had deceived him. She was just as sadistic as the damn Swedes.

The throngs of ravenous shoppers swirled around Illya as he stalked behind Gaby. In every direction he was being elbowed out of the way, caught between shouted conversations, and having his feet crushed for the nth time under a towering cart of material _shit_.

After pushing through a crowd gaping mindlessly at a display of rubbish bins, and after nearly tripping over a rolled rug carelessly shoved under a cart, Ilya found Gaby wedging a melon baller into the cart.

"What is that?" Illya asked, even though he already knew. He wanted to know if Gaby actually knew what it was.

"You ball melons with it," she said matter-of-factly.

"When have you ever ball melon?" IIlya asked incredulously.

Gaby leaned on the cart and considered.

"Never."

"Then why," Illya huffed as he grabbed the baller from the cart, "do you need this!?"

"Because," Gaby said as she snatched the baller from his hand, "I want it."

"We do not need this and already we have too much," Illya said as he plucked the baller out of her grasp and threw it back into the bin with the others, "and I want leave before I die of starvation!"

"If you are a good boy," Gaby said as she leaned into the bin to grab the baller, "you can have some meatballs when we are finished."

Gaby smiled as she jammed the baller back into the cart. Then, to make her point, she returned to the bin to take a second baller and added it to the cart.

"Just in case I lose the first one," she smirked.

Illya ground his teeth. What sort of furniture store sells meatballs?

_______________________

"What do you think of this one?" Gaby asked as she considered the bed.

"It looks like all other fifteen bed we look at," Illya replied.

"Yes, but I especially like this one," Gaby said as she sat on the bed.

"I like the feel of it...sit down," Gaby grabbed his wrist, "feel it."

Illya sat rigidly on the bed next to Gaby. His hand rested on the mattress only a few centimetres from hers.

"Is nice," he said, carefully not looking at her.

"But is it sturdy enough?" Gaby inquired as she bounced lightly on the bed.

Illya willed himself to keep breathing normally, still not looking at Gaby.

"Sturdy enough for, sleeping?" he asked shakily.

"Hm," Gaby responded enigmatically, leaning back and pressing the heels of her palms into the mattress.

Illya stood up quickly from the bed.

"Is nice. I need-" he looked around trying to find something, anything, through the crowds of people, "I need something over here," he said and quickly walked off, nearly taking out a five person family in his path.

Gaby flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.

_______________________

Gaby found Illya sitting on a SÖDERHAM sofa. 

Unable to stretch out his long legs with the milling shoppers around him, his knees were nearly at chest height as he sat uncomfortably on the short sofa. It was all rather comical.

"Okay, time to put you out of your misery," Gaby said as she wheeled the cart up to the cowed Russian agent, "let's buy these things and go home."

Illya looked up at her with the eyes of an orphan who had just been adopted by a doting millionaire.

"Truly?" he whispered.

"Yes," she smiled as Illya stood up, "but this is only half the fun...we still need to assemble everything!" 

_______________________

"There is a piece missing," Illya said for the fifth time in a row.

"No, I really don't think there is," Napoleon responded as he read the instructions for the sixth time. "You see, it looks like this bracket goes on the right side and connects to the back...so there wouldn't need to be a second bracket."

"No, you are looking at it wrong," Illya grabbed the instructions from Napoleon's hands."See," Illya pointed at the vague illustration on the paper, "it needs second to support shelf."

"You slide the shelf in. There's grooves on the side. It doesn't need a second bracket," Napoleon insisted.

"In listed materials it says brackets: two," Illya said, pointing at the opposite page.

Napoleon flipped the instructions in Illya's hands to the back.

"I thought that was odd too, but if you read the Japanese section it says brackets: one. Same with the Italian. It has a typo in the English section," he explained.

"Then why is there second bracket in picture!" Illya nearly shouted.

"Listen, don't take your frustration out on me when she was the one who talked you into buying cheap furniture," Napoleon huffed. "You made your bed. Sleep in it." Napoleon threw his allen wretch onto the pile of shelves. "That is, if either of you can ever manage to assemble your beds," he said with a smirk.

Gaby walked into the room and saw both men standing over a scattering of boards and torn cardboard.

"I've already assembled a Kontinentalsäng and a Kvikne and you haven't even managed to get the Liatorp to look like anything more than a pile of rubbish," Gaby said with a laugh.

Illya walked over to Gaby and pushed the instructions into her hands.

"Then you try. I'm going to unpack rest of the car," Illya snapped before leaving the room.

"He's had quite a day," Napoleon said after they heard the front door slam, "how was he at the store?"

"How do you think? He was surrounded by the two things he hates above all; crowds of people and overindulgent capitalism," Gaby laughed as she bent down to the shelves to pick up where Illya left off. "He did eat three servings of the meatballs though...." she said considering, "You should have come, I think you would have enjoyed it."

"As much as I would have loved to see Peril sorting through frilly hand towels, I can't bring myself to shop somewhere that makes things like this," he said gesturing to the mess of a shelving unit on the floor, "I appreciate quality, and that doesn't include flat-packed, plywood furniture."

"Well, I really like my bed at least," Gaby said as she slid the shelves into place without needing a second bracket.

"Did you and Peril only get one bed? That should accelerate things a bit," Napoleon said and wiggled his brows at Gaby.

"No we each got a bed," Gaby said, installing the last peg and standing the unit upright, not looking at Napoleon.

"You mean you don't want to servicetjänster Illya on your new Kontinentalsäng?" 

"Stop," Gaby insisted but a small smile stayed on the corner of her lips.

The front door slammed again and Illya appeared a few moments later, blue and yellow bags hanging off his arms and several boxes piled under his chin. He dumped the load on the floor.

"That's it," Illya said, muttering something under his breath in Russian about the Swedes.

"That's rather unfair. You should like them. The Swedes are technically neutral," Napoleon defended as he watched Gaby screw the door in place and complete the unit.

"Technically," Illya growled, his expression turning to surprise when he saw Gaby's work, "you finished it."

"It's a shelving unit, not an atom bomb," she said, a little smug. "That about completes all our things, do you need any help Napoleon."

"Not really, no. My purchase was a little easier to move and no assembly was required," he said.

"Purchase? As in one?" Gaby asked in confusion.

"Well, yes. Come look."

The trio walked into Napoleon's new bedroom. In two corners stood exquisite antique French Louis XV style Bombay marble top nightstands. Otherwise the room was empty.

"That's it," Gaby gasped, "that's all you bought with your part of the budget?"

"They cost the entire budget," Napoleon explained, "but I wasn't about to leave them in that antique shop and they were too big to pocket."

"Enjoy sleeping on the floor Cowboy," Illya said slapping him on the back.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to see what IKEA has in the bed department...at least for the time being," Napoleon relented as he looked at his empty bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> All Swedish provided by IKEA's website.


End file.
